


don't stop this healing

by cheolhie



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Subspace, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, and cheol is his loving daddy, daddy cheol but not sexually!!!!!!!!!, hansol is a little baby boy, i just ship these two so much and there's a sad lack of seungsol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-26 14:50:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13238025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheolhie/pseuds/cheolhie
Summary: "you're so pretty, so perfect. it's like… it's like someone really took their time with you."





	don't stop this healing

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this at 3am in like 15 minutes because i was on tumblr and started crying over cheol and hansol,,,,,, seungsol is THE SHIP of 2018 i'm telling u

Junhui had suggested – no, _insisted_ on taking everyone out to dinner after speaking with Seungcheol briefly one afternoon.

“You need to stay here, _with Hansol,_ and talk to him. I'll take the others out or something for the night, to get them out from under your feet. You need to sort this out, as a leader _and_ as a human being.”

Junhui had stayed true to his word, and taken everyone but Seungcheol and Hansol out to dinner. The dorm was empty, and silent. The door to Hansol's shared room was shut, and there was no sound on the other side. A few plates were sat outside neatly, still full with hardly eaten food. 

Three light knocks to the closed door.

“Hansol?”

Nothing.

Seungcheol gathered up the plates and scraped the food into the bin under the kitchen sink. Such a waste of food.

“Talk to me.” He was back at the door, forehead rested against the cool surface. Still nothing. He cleared his throat.

“Hansol. Open the door _now._ We need to talk.” He reached out to put his hand on the knob, and a muffled voice that sounded as if it was under one too many blankets sounded from the other side of the door.

“Come in.”

And Hansol _was_ under one too many blankets. He was curled up in the corner of the bed in a cocoon, face flushed from the heat. The room was stifling, and not a single window was open to let a breeze pass through, curtains drawn to block out light.

Hansol's face was slightly blotchy, eyes puffy, yet face sunken. A half empty bottle of water was on his bedside table, and his phone was sitting, dead, next to it, a red light flashing on screen. On the floor next to his bed was an arrangement of soft toys, looking cold and untouched.

“You've been in here for an awfully long time, we hardly see you when we aren't out. _I_ hardly see you.” Seungcheol spoke as he approached the window, throwing back the curtains to let the last of the sunlight seep in. The windows were small, but enough to let fresh air blow in once opened.

“Hansol.” The younger still hadn't spoken as Seungcheol sat next to him on the edge of the bed. “Speak to me.”

And that opened the floodgates, and Hansol buried his face in the blankets and cried. The sound was muffled slightly, but every broken sob and heaved breath made Seungcheol feel as if he was sinking further and further into hopelessness.

“P-please…” He breathed in, chest shuddering, and he looked up at Seungcheol, eyes glazed with tears. “...d-daddy please.” And he threw himself forward at Seungcheol, arms wrapped around his torso and head digging into his side. 

They sat like that for a while, Seungcheol running his fingers gently through Hansol's hair to calm him down. Once his crying had almost entirely subsided, Seungcheol tapped Hansol gently. “Baby, c’mere. Lap.” He moved back to lean against the wall, and let Hansol clamber onto his lap.

“What's been up, hm? Been a tough few weeks, wanna talk to me?” He rubbed small circles on Hansol's hips, coaxing words out of the younger boy. “Just keywords is okay. We can go deeper if necessary.” He pressed a chaste kiss to the boy's forehead, prompting him.

“S-stress. Tiredness. Fear. Sad… N-not enough.” Hansol hiccuped softly, and buried his face in Seungcheol's neck, arms curled up in between their chests.

“Fear and sadness. Why fear and sadness?” Seungcheol's voice was soft, humming in his throat as Hansol's breath fanned against his neck.

“Minghao. He's been injured a while. I miss him not being with us. Makes me sad.” Hansol pulled back and fiddled with the strings on Seungcheol's jumper, bottom lip stuck out in a little pout.

“He'll get better. Healing takes time. He's healing well, too, might I add. I miss him too, but he hasn't left us, we still come home to him all the time, hm?” Seungcheol kissed at Hansol's furrowed brow. 

“‘Not enough.’ What's this about?” Hansol chewed at his lip and tried to wriggle off of Seungcheol's lap, making soft noises of disapproval in the back of his throat, but Seungcheol grabbed at his hips and pulled him forward again.

“Answer me, Sol.” 

“Don't feel… enough. For you. Not pretty enough. Not funny enough. Not mature enough. You have to babysit me most of the time. I see you having fun with the other members and I feel sad. Because I know I'll never be mature like them. Or funny.” He buried his face in Seungcheol neck again and sniffed quietly.

“Where are you getting these ideas, baby? Who said you're not enough? Who said you're not mature? You're most definitely pretty enough, and funny enough, and mature enough. My little prince, you're perfect, yeah? Who said those things?”

“C-Chan… He joked about it… It was just a joke though, ‘M overreacting.” Hansol sniffed again, and raised a sweater-clad hand to rub at his eyes.

“I'll talk to him about it. Joke or not, everyone should be nice to one another. What makes you not feel pretty enough? Or funny enough?” 

There was a long silence, and Seungcheol could almost hear Hansol's brain working, trying to piece his words together.

“Look at you. Look at everyone. Look at Jeonghan; he has amazing bone structure. And Mingyu, he's so tall and lean. Seokmin has an amazing smile. Soonyoung's funny, I see you laughing with him all the time. And then there's… _me._ The others know you're my babysitter, they know what I'm like and they hate me…” Hansol's voice trailed off and he squeezed his eyes shut and bowed his head. Seungcheol felt his heart tear at the edges.

“Yes; look at everyone. But look at _you._ You're so pretty, so perfect. It's like… It's like someone really took their time with you. Sure, the others may be attractive, but you're _breathtakingly beautiful._ You have a stunning personality, Sol, and anyone would be stupid not to see it. And they don’t hate you, they know what it’s like. I'll let you in on a secret, hm?” Seungcheol leaned in to whisper in Hansol's ear; “Minghao has a favourite plushie that Mingyu got him. Don't tell him I said anything though!” Seungcheol laughed, and sealed his words with a kiss to the tip of Hansol's nose, planting a pretty pink blush that spread across the younger boys face.

“Is… Is Hao-”

“Yes. Quiet though, Mingyu would skin me if he found out I told you about him and Minghao.” Seungcheol smiled, and Hansol returned it, ten times brighter, eyes crinkling.

“Are they… Like us?” Hansol was whispering, eyes wide and lips parted in wonder. Seungcheol nodded, warmth blooming throughout his chest.

“Is Mingyu Hao’s Da-”

“Sol! _Quietly!”_ Seungcheol raised a finger to his lips, but smiled and nodded again.

“Oh my gosh why didn't Hao tell me? I want another friend like that so _bad..._ Would he mind if I asked?” Hansol giggled and bounced excitedly on Seungcheol's lap.

“Ow, baby that hurts, be gentle. And I think he would. But how about I talk to Mingyu, and see if we could arrange something, yeah?” Seungcheol held Hansol still by the hips, smiling a lopsided smile.

“Yes! Thank you, daddy. I love you!” Hansol wrapped his arms around Seungcheol's neck and enveloped him in a hug. Seungcheol pulled back and kissed Hansol softly, starting at the corner of his lips and working backwards, down his neck.

“I love you too, Sol. Let's get you showered and fed before the others get back, yeah? Come on, I'll make us something nice to eat.” He stood from the bed, Hansol still hanging off of him. “Legs, around my waist. I'll carry you to the bathroom.”

Hansol's giggles echoed all the way down the hall.

**Author's Note:**

> [my twt](https://twitter.com/08cult)


End file.
